The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A Contract Made, a Fate Sealed

Athair M’athar of Maintelan was a warlock, of sorts. He had no patron, and commanded only small amounts of power, stolen from various artifacts he had collected over his many years. Tonight, that would change. He shivered, the lone lamp casting long shadows across the tower chamber. The Old Man of Tromlee he would be no longer, a figure the people of the nearby town feared, using the epithet to frighten children away from the water. Indeed, by sunrise, there would be no trace of his time spent here, on the isle of Tromlee.

At last, I will free myself of this wretched country.

His journey had begun nearly a millennium ago. A cunning woman had come to the village in… where had it been?

It was cold there, he remembered, cold and wet.

Somewhere in Scotland, definitely, though he knew England was not much different. She had been an unusual beauty in the village, though she was clearly an older woman. She had been fair featured and tall. Athair could not remember why she had come to the village, though he had some vague notion of medicines and blessings. She had taken note of him. Perhaps she had detected some sliver of talent, or perhaps she was simply flattered by his interest in her trade. He could not remember. Nonetheless, she noticed him, and she gave him something. The first artifact in his collection, and the one he would sacrifice tonight. A triquetra, a three pointed circle of pale silver wire, clad in glass he had then thought uncannily clear. The artifact was a symbol of the three-faced goddess, known to the Gaels as the Morrigan, and it was upon one of her servants he would call.

The artifact was what had given him the time he needed. Its parameters had taken an unfortunate accident to learn. The lines he bore on his face, and the grey streaks in his dark brown hair, were a testament to the limitations of the longevity the talisman provided. So long as it was his, he would not be able to leave Scotland, not without aging rapidly. Still, he didn’t dare attempt to pass it on, for even conditional immortality had been too valuable to sacrifice. Too valuable, that is, until he could secure comfort for the remainder of his mortal years. Athair had no delusions of eternal youth, he had wisdom enough to know that was a fool’s errand. What he did intend to do was provide for his heir, and he would produce an heir, no matter what it would take.

The gauntlet first, then the knife, then the amulet.

The talisman lay in the center of a wreath, woven from the boughs of pines that had grown over an Irish barrow. Those had been easy enough to obtain, though the traders had been uneasy, and justifiably so. Those barrows were very much haunted. The dagger had been harder. Few men had cheated death, and fewer were willing to barter for such a particular artifact. It was decorated with Maori symbols, made of carved and polished wood, of a sort the natives of that land called taiki. It had supposedly pierced the heart of the Welshman he had bought it from.

The man, it seemed, wore some kind of protective talisman, and had, against all logic, survived. The Morrigan and her servants were tied closely with death. That the blade had been cheated of a kill would strengthen the connection he would make. The gauntlet was what had spurred the whole enterprise on. It could, when anointed in an oil derived from corncockle, and (rather unnervingly) set alight, could compel the hand of the wearer to answer any question within the knowledge of its maker, a long dead German sorcerer called Arendt.

What had proven to be a major roadblock was that the gauntlet could only answer in Arendt’s handwriting and native tongue, which was apparently some dialect of German from a thousand years before Athair was even born. To make matters worse, Arendt’s penmanship was apparently awful. Fortunately, it seemed its previous possessor had died in Scotland and in rather spectacular fashion, and Athair had learned of it from a set of tomes, purchased from a trader. From the gauntlet he learned many things, among them the required components for this ceremony.

Everything I have, I have paid for, be it by coin or by blood. Fitting that my legacy be a contracted exchange.

He began by donning the gauntlet on his left hand. It was surprisingly modern in design, resembling the gothic gauntlets that had only recently fallen out of favour. Its use would be twisted by the ceremony Athair would conduct. Where it would ordinarily only be compelled to answer a question, here it would be used to bind Athair and a servant of the Morrigan in a contract. He wrote the contract as follows:

I, Athair M’athar of Maintelan, hereby agree to surrender to the undersigned entity an amulet imbued with power taken from Anand, the Morrigan and the queen of wraiths, contingent upon the meeting of the following conditions;

1. That the undersigned guarantee that they will not attempt to prematurely end the life of the contractor, or any individual of the line of Maintelan.

2. That the undersigned agree to leave in peace the contractor, even through the use of a third party or higher power, unless actively fulfilling the contract.

3. That the undersigned agree to extend the lifespan of the contractor until his line produces a male heir.

4. That the undersigned agree to compel, to the best of their ability, one newborn member of their own line to serve the next male heir of the contractor, subject to further requirements, stated below.

4a. This servant shall be compelled to obey the aforementioned heir in all ways.

4b. This servant shall be compelled to anticipate, accommodate, and conform to the desires of the heir, and to protect the heir above all else.

4c. This servant shall not be compelled to serve the heir until the heir is eligible to receive his inheritance, but she shall be compelled to protect the heir from birth.

4d. This servant, so that she will not attempt to circumvent these compulsions, shall be compelled such that she will desire her own servitude.

4f. This servant shall extend to the heir all the same protections the undersigned shall extend to the contractor.

4g. This servant shall, for all intents and purposes, be considered chattel in the possession of the heir.

4h. This servant shall devote herself fully to the heir so long as the heir still lives.

5. That the undersigned agree to extend all previously stated protections to the heirs and family of the contractor that are given to the contractor.

6. That the undersigned ensures that the contractor does not want for funds for the remainder of his life.

The contract was imbued with no particular power of its own, but the entity Athair intended to summon would nonetheless be compelled by their very nature to uphold it. The Morrigan’s servants were among the creatures deemed by the christians to be demons, a moniker most seemed to embrace, if Arendt’s experience could be trusted.

The pagans had called them Fae, and the stories of these creatures were astonishingly accurate, namely in that the beings were bound by strange and occasionally arbitrary rules, in that they were bound unconditionally by their word. These creatures had little empathy, and likely would not hesitate to offer up one of their own, especially in exchange for so potent an artifact as the talisman. Though its use to him was limited to extending his lifespan, an individual with real magical power, such as a sorcerer, or, indeed, a demon, would find it a regenerating wellspring of infernal power, and, properly utilised, it could fuel a truly insidious arcane working.

What the demon did with the talisman mattered little to the old man. He removed the gauntlet, and laid it upon the desk. He lifted the wooden dagger in his right hand, and ran it lightly across his left palm. He hesitated a moment, his dedication wavering.

Think of your future, fool. Freedom! And, if all goes to plan, one day your own blood will flow through infernal veins… There is too much you stand to gain!

He steeled himself, extended his bloodied hand over the talisman and, his voice hoarse from disuse, softly spoke:

“Servant of the Morrigan, hear me. I offer a sliver of your mistress’s own power, if you will fulfill the terms of my contract.”

Blood fell from his hand to the talisman. Outside, the wind howled across the loch. Fog poured into the tower chamber.

And history was made.

In Which There is Much Exposition

“She dumped you, didn’t she.” It was more a statement than a question. Alec had ignored my advice about Sarah Pierson. I couldn’t conceive of why. I had yet to be wrong, and he knew I was looking out for him, even if he didn’t know the reason. Alec sighed.

“She blew up on me when I wouldn’t buy her a new purse,” Alec explained wearily. “It was the second date! We were gonna see a movie, and she dragged me across the mall to buy her crap, AND THEN she figures I’M the asshole.” I rolled my eyes. Alec’s father had left his family very well provided for when he died. This wasn’t the first time a girl had tried to wheedle him for cash.

“I told you she just wanted a sugar daddy.”

“I know, Mara, I know. You were right, you’re always right,” he continued, leaning back in his seat. “But is it too much to ask for a little sympathy?’

“I’m past caring Alec.” A lie. What I wanted to tell him was that I would crush Sarah’s pretty little face under my heel while he watched, and make that whore beg him for forgiveness. But apparently humans found that kind of honesty disconcerting, and he’d probably be more than a little bit put off. “Next time, maybe you’ll listen to me.”

“Just once, though, just once, I would like to go on a date and maybe get laid before I go to Uni, you know? I’m not exactly ‘saving myself’ here!” Alec ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat. He sighed again.

“If that’s what you want, try one of those hook-up apps. I guarantee you wouldn’t have to wait long for an offer.” I did mean that. Alec certainly wasn’t hard to look at, handsome even, if you were into tall guys with thick, wavy hair. Which I was. Not that I could tell him that, of course. I was so sick of it. I’d tried to tell him, tried to hint I was interested (and I was so much more than simply interested), but every time I tried, the words just wouldn’t come. Apparently, until Alec could receive his inheritance, getting ‘involved’ would violate the contract, probably the bit about ‘leaving him in peace’ unless actively fulfilling the terms. Ugh. Still, him not being in a relationship would make things easier for me. This way I wouldn’t need to worry about displacing someone he actually liked.

“I think that you think a lot more of me than I really merit,” he smiled, “But I’ll take the compliment.”

We were in the same mall as the theatre. It was a small affair overall, and the food court (where we were sitting), was a bit cozy, more like a very long diner sort of setup than the typical open floor plan. The seating was all booths attached to the walls, and one side had the windows that faced the parking lot. No restaurants in the court itself- you passed them as you went in. We were more or less alone, not many people came in on Wednesday mornings. We met up here most of the time, now that high school was behind us. Sundays were the most consistent. No one ever came in here on Sundays till noon. I was so glad Alec didn’t buy into that church crap. It didn’t affect me directly, it couldn’t really, but it would make explaining my situation so much harder when the time came. On that subject though…

“So, your birthday is Friday, right?” I asked. I knew it was Friday. It was my birthday too, but he didn’t know that. He thought I just wasn’t big on parties, which I suppose is true.

“Yeah, 18 at last! Got the day off work to handle some legal stuff. Apparently my dad left some provisions in his will to do with me coming of age, or something like that.” My pulse picked up as he said it.

“Well, I was thinking on Saturday you could swing by my place! We could grab a pizza, watch some movies, you know, make a night of it!” My heart’s pounding so hard I can actually hear it now. Somehow I kept it from showing.

“Sounds great! Are your folks cool with it?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Eight-ish okay? I might need to clean things up a bit in the morning.” Another lie. I live alone, but he doesn’t know that. I had maintained that particular deception for as long as he could remember, mostly by avoiding the subject. Alec was a pretty relaxed guy, and he never really asked after my personal life, usually preferring to crack wise or distract himself scattershot conversations about pop culture. The girlfriend fixation was a new development. I lived in a generous, isolated, manor house, in a small strip of forest about halfway between the mall and his home. I have to make sure everything is perfect when he comes over. I just need to act calm now, and disengage without drawing attention to the fact that I’m freaking out on the inside.

“Yeah, around eight sounds great. I’ll be there.”

Perfect. Now, how will I do it? I could explain it to him the moment he walks in the door, but he might bug out if he thinks I’ve gone crazy… Maybe I wait until it’s late and he’s a bit tired? He might be more pliable if I got him a little drunk, but he doesn’t really like to drink. I could try to show him something concrete, but he might still freak out and…

“What’s your address again?”

And I haven’t said anything. I’ve just been sitting here, staring at him.

“Mara?”

Smiling like a lunatic.

Goddess help me.

I’m in my car in the lot now, outside the mall. I’d managed not to ruin my evening plans, and had ducked out after pretending to check my phone. I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. I realised that I was covered in a light sheen of perspiration. Shifting in my seat, a certain warmth informs me that my little invitation to Alec had excited me in more ways than one. I lean back a bit in my seat, and pull down the sun visor to get a good look at myself in the mirror.

I don’t look like nearly as much of a mess as I feel, and I take the opportunity to inspect myself. My straight black hair is in a sort of lopsided bob cut, coming down as low as my chin on the right, and only just reaching the bottom of my ear on the left. I wished for a moment that I could grow it out, but unfortunately my hair did not act normally when I grew it long. It starts fine, but once it gets near my shoulders the colour starts to fade to an even grey. I had no interest in explaining the unusual colour pattern to a bunch of nosy humans, so I have to keep it short. My eyes are also abnormal, though they are less conspicuous. My irises are red in colour, but are of a shade deep and dark enough to pass for brown. My complexion is clear, and my skin is olive-tone. I’m rather slim in the waist with generous, but still athletic hips. I wear a C-cup, and my breasts are substantial, but still firm, without sag. Round face, albeit slightly flushed at the moment, and a well defined but small nose. I was wearing a grey t-shirt, and a navy blue skirt, just less about knee length. Overall, I think I make a very attractive human girl.

It was certainly far better than the alternative.

Not that I’d have to keep the act up around Alec for much longer. As I began driving back to my house, I considered my strategy. Come Friday, Alec would be eligible for his inheritance, and consequently, I would fall under the full obligations of the contract. I would, at long last, be compelled to serve him. It was… Well, the thought of it was accompanied by a pleasant warmth between my legs. I knew I would end the night sleeping with him, I’d waited too fucking long not to. How I’d go about it was another matter. If he told me to stop, at any point, I would be compelled to obey, which was not an acceptable outcome. So, I would need to make sure he wouldn’t want to stop. I could, if it really came down to it, render him pliable through magic, but that didn’t sit right with me. The idea of changing my literal life-long companion seemed, somehow, blasphemous. I’d probably have to wait until he was nice and relaxed, and ease him into it. Or… Either way, I intended to tell him after.

See, and I really should explain this, I’m not human. In point of fact, I’m not even technically from the mortal world at all, though I’d only spent about ten minutes outside of it. Humans most often called that other world the “underworld” or something similarly sinister. It’s a kind of space between spaces, equidistant to any given point in mortal reality, but still existing as a three-dimensional space. The precise mechanics of it are as obscure to its denizens as they are to anyone else, but beings from this place have a natural ability to return to it at will, but most require some kind of lifeline or assistance in the mortal world to leave. Natives of this other plane of reality called it by many names, but the most common was Hutsik.

Things from Hutsik that can leave at will are called Bidaiari, and they seem to have some kind of natural affinity for fundamental aspects of the Earth. Some Bidaiari had such a strong affinity for Earth that humans started to worship them as gods, which very much went to their heads. They got to thinking that they should have some servants that were a bit closer to them in power, and to that end, collected a bunch of lesser beings from Hutsik, and anchored them and their descendants to Earth somehow.

However they did it, though, they left these beings (called basailu) with an acute vulnerability to truth. That is to say, basailu cannot go back on their word without experiencing debilitating pain. They (we, I suppose, as I am one of them) can lie without incident, but if one makes a promise, breaking it would nearly kill them. We cannot take things without consent, as well, but whatever standard this rule goes by is so vague that we can actually compel others to consent. The only real standard is that they say it out loud.

Basailu are fiercely competitive amongst ourselves, so deal-making and alliance brokering are deeply important. We also have a substantial amount of magical power, enough that humans would trip over themselves to get a chance to use even a small amount, though we were still pathetic compared to a Bidaiari. Normally, basailu are downright contemptuous towards humans, but on occasion a human would come forward with some sort of trinket, usually carelessly dispensed by one of the Bidaiari in a benevolent fit of narcissism, and that changed the situation substantially. Normally, a basailu would only agree to a contract with a human, verbal or otherwise, if they saw an opportunity to assert their superiority over them, usually by deliberately and wildly misinterpreting the wording of the deal. But if a human had an artifact with even the barest sliver of Bidaiari magic in it, the basailu would be more concerned with just making off with the object, and wouldn’t bother with screwing over the other party.

It wasn’t that these artifacts were somehow interfering with the basailu’s reasoning, at least, no more than simple greed would. Bidaiari are stupid powerful, and if a basailu could get their hands on even a little bit of Bidaiari magic they could carve out a substantial amount of territory on Earth, and could even establish a presence in Hutsik. That’s not so much a concern these days though. Most Bidaiari bailed on Earth in the 18th century, after most humans stopped worshipping them, and human technology reached a point where it could conceivably compete with their magic in offensive capability.

My existence, and my connection to Alec, are both the compulsory results of one of these contracts. Apparently, sometime in the 17th century, Alec’s father had struck a contract with my mother that promised him the opportunity to continue his lineage, as well as promising to use her power to bend her own offspring to consent to and abide by the terms of the contract. Technically speaking, I did serve the Morrigan, but the very day Alec and I were born my mother compelled me to consent to the terms of the contract, and now even the Morrigan would be unable to release me from them. The contract had specified female offspring, but that wasn’t necessary. The basailu who serve the Bidaiari humans called the Morrigan are all female, and are physically twisted to resemble her in certain ways.

Though I looked human enough now, basailu are capable shape-shifters, and my human appearance was an actively maintained facade, albeit one that had become more comfortable than my true form. That isn’t to say basailu look wholly inhuman by nature, but stories of satyrs, Fae, and horned demons… They didn’t come from nothing. Humans had taken to calling us demons for good reason, and we fully embraced the title. I certainly didn’t like humans in general, though I do make an exception in Alec’s case.

I wondered what he would think of me, once he knew. I had lied to him, implicitly, for our entire lives! I’d adopted a human form of roughly his age for the first time when we were both six! For fuck’s sake, what would a reasonable reaction even be? And that still didn’t account for telling him that I wanted nothing more for him to pin me down by the throat, and take his pleasure from me whether I liked it or not, to let him use me as he wished, even if I broke under the force of it, even if my body couldn’t... Ahem. Yeah. I worried that my obsession with serving him may prove more off-putting than the fact that I am a literal demon. I continued to consider my options as I made my way to my dwelling.

Fate Collects its due

Alec had been born, according to his birth certificate, on at 10:24 pm on Thursday, August 10th of the year 2000. As such, it was just before 10:30 on Friday I felt the change hit. I’d anticipated it, of course, I’d been anticipating it every day for the last eighteen years, but I had no idea as to how it would manifest. I chose to await it in my house, and on my bed. It was subtle at first. I gained a dim awareness of a new sense, unpracticed, yet nonetheless keen. I was at first unsure what it was meant to be, it manifested as a strange sort of pull, a mild and inscrutable compulsion. I felt it escalate, slowly at first, but then more rapidly. As it intensified, I began to run short of breath, I discovered a mild tingling in my sex, and my breasts seemed to grow heavier. What was at first incomprehensible became clear, as the pulsing I felt in my pussy left me writhing and whimpering on my bed.

This was his desire. As my hips bucked fruitlessly against the empty air, I felt Alec’s want crystallise in my mind.

Sarah Pierson, face down, ass in the air. Her cunt is bare, and positively drooling for him. She wiggles her ass and groans in desperation.

“Please Alec, sir, please! I need it, I need it so bad! I’ll do anything, I’ll give you anything!”

“Anything? Well, for a start, You can pay me back for the money I wasted on you. With interest, of course.” Alec’s voice was calm, clear, commanding, and powerful. He was in control, and the quivering pile of hopelessly aroused girl-flesh before him was wholly at his mercy.

“Of course, sir, of course! As much money as you want, sir, just please fuck me!”

“Good girl, Sarah, good girl,” He moved forward, his cock erect, and kneeled behind the desperate bitch. “Good girls get a reward when they give me what I want, Sarah.”

At this he leaned over her, and sharply pinned her face to the ground with his left hand. With his right he roughly grabbed one of her tits.

“And you are always going to give me what I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir! I’ll be a good girl, sir, I promise! Sarah will be a good girl! Sarah will be a good whore for you, sir!”

He cocked his hips forward, and at last penetrated her weeping pussy. She squealed beneath him, ecstasy apparent in her wordless cries. Her warmth encompassed him as he asserted his authority over her cunt. As he began thrusting into the twitching slut, his power over her seemed to grow with each stroke. Her body, her mind, her very being was His, and she would conform to His desires, no matter what she would have to give Him.

As the vision began to fade, I came back to my own body. I was naked, drenched with sweat, and, I realised, had a hand on my breast, and the other had two fingers embedded in my very moist sex.

“Not sex,” I realised “And not breast. I am groping my tits, and have two fingers sunk completely in my aching pussy, my wet and ever-so-ready cunt.”

I shivered pleasantly. I’d never thought of sex in particular detail. I had frequently, more frequently of late, thought of it in broad terms, but never in terms of particulars. I knew I wanted to be used, and that I wanted Him to use me, preferably without regard to my personal wellbeing, but that, I now knew, would change dramatically. It was so absolutely delicious to take those thoughts, those words, to roll them around in my mind. And in any case, these visions would be a fact of my existence now.

My Master had clearly been indulging in a potent masturbatory fantasy, a well rehearsed one, if it’s clarity were any indicator. Visions like that were experienced like dreams, I knew, bare of details besides their focus. The subjugation of Sarah Pierson, as it transpired, had taken place in the barest idea of a room, and upon the general concept of a floor. Repetition enhanced clarity, as did intensity.

I withdrew my hand from my tits, and pulled my fingers from my still tingling pussy. I hadn’t masturbated before today. It had always seemed so fundamentally repulsive to me to take pleasure when my Master would gain nothing from it. Now I would be further bound to Him by the sheer sexual ecstasy of witnessing his desire. I reached with my dry hand to brush my hair from my face. In doing so I discovered what had displaced the hair to begin with, aside from my rather pleasant convulsions.

A horn. More accurately, an antler, one of the two I possessed when in my true form. I sat up, and looked myself over. I must have partially changed in the midst of my episode. A light smattering of feathers hung from my forearm. Looking in the mirror of my dresser, I saw that the antlers were also only partly manifested, only measuring about three inches in length. Looking further in the mirror, I noticed that my eyes had also changed, presenting a more vibrant red in the irises, and with the sclera now black in colour. I scowled, and reverted to my fully human form.

I could still feel my new sense, but it had faded substantially. Odds are, Master had satisfied himself and fallen asleep afterward. Slightly giddy, I realised that I had something now to make my still upcoming revelation to Him palatable. He wanted Sarah Pierson, and I would ensure that he got her.

Across my newfound link with Him, I felt a warm sensation of approval. I took a moment to bask in the feeling, running my hands over my sweat-soaked body. Given that Master was likely asleep, I speculated that whatever had responded to my thought was His subconscious mind. Almost a word, more of an idea, faint but still clear, echoed across the link.

Whore.

I decided I rather liked my Master’s subconscious. We agreed on so much! He wanted Sarah. He would have her. He wanted her to be His whore, and so she would be. I resolved to have the stuck-up, walking, talking, bitching set of holes broken and ready to use by Saturday night.

Birth of a Changeling

Magic is a tricky thing. It can manifest in a broad variety of forms, and one thing can be accomplished through a great many different mechanisms. For instance, disguises. I disguise my appearance through shape-shifting, fundamentally altering the actual physical structure of my body, even down to the genetic level. There are limits, but for the most part, when I look human, I am fundamentally indistinguishable from a human. Shapeshifting is easy for basailu, and comes fairly easily to most things born with magic ability. There are a wide variety of other ways to disguise something, but most are variations on wards or glamours, or some combination of the two.

Wards are really versatile, and can be used to do much more than simply hide something or someone. Essentially, a ward is a magic working that defines some set of altered perceptions in an area. A ward could be centred on a person, and could conceal them by simply broadcasting the perception that the person is in some way innocuous, or somehow beneath notice. So long as the person isn’t too conspicuous, and so long as they aren’t seen by too many people at once (wards draw power based on how many people they affect, the intensity of the effect, and the size of the defined area), the person is simply not noticed in the moment, or even forgotten entirely. Basailu aren’t great with wards as a general rule, but we can use them- I have a weak one on my door to convince solicitors that it looks like no one is home.

More accessible for basailu are glamours. A glamour is, in a nutshell, a magic hologram. A glamour projects a fixed magical image into the mind of the observer. Where two people could look at a warded object and have conflicting descriptions of what they saw, a glamour is much less “up to interpretation” and can even fake tactile feedback, provided the caster knows what they are doing. Unfortunately, unlike wards (which require a set of symbols to be placed on the warded object) glamours have expensive material components, usually things like Norse sunstones and powdered amber.

Of course, magic like this is all passive, and accessible to any human with some degree of magical power. What makes basailu really potent, magically speaking, are charms. Charms are a really effective way of altering someone’s thought process in the short term. Charming a human can have a number of effects, depending on the intent of the caster. A charm could temporarily rewrite someone’s common sense or memory, or it could simply render them highly suggestible for a brief period. Charms are temporary, only lasting between half an hour to four hours. Another strike against them is that an informed subject could easily resist the charm, provided they knew both what charms are and that they were charmed. Basailu are very good with charms, and I’ve used charms in the past to get what I want, such as the house I’ve been living in.

Where charms become useful is when they are used to convince a victim to sign a contract. Contracts are the lifeblood of any substantial magic basailu use. While humans (when they do have magic) can make big, flashy workings, like fireballs or undead thralls, basailu are severely limited in affecting the physical world, and mostly use shape-shifting or charms to deal with enemies. The exception to this is contracts. If the contract makes provisions for it, a basailu can have free reign over the body, mind, and even the soul of the other party. The only drawback was that, while we can dictate terms we would find acceptable, we need the other party to physically write the contract.

Of course, as I pulled up behind the whore-to-be’s house I already knew how to get around that particular roadblock. I stepped out of the car, and walked across the backyard towards the house. It was just about a quarter-to-one in the morning now, and only one room in the house still had the light on. An expensive-looking sports car had pulled away from the house about ten minutes earlier, most likely Sarah’s new boy-toy. I had to hand it to the bitch, she moved fast.

I braced myself for the nausea I was about to experience, and concentrated on the shape of a jackdaw, a mid-sized corvid with about a 70 centimetre wingspan. I transitioned quickly, and soon found myself substantially closer to the ground. I flew up to her window, which was on the second floor. Looking in from the windowsill, the room was empty, and I could see the light was on in the en suite bathroom. I heard running water, and realised that Sarah was in the shower, most likely cleaning herself of the boy-toy’s filth.

Slut.

Whatever our new bond was, it certainly seemed to leave me with some pretty powerful compulsions. I wondered briefly if my link with Master could somehow disturb His sleep. I certainly hope not. If my thoughts somehow woke him up, I just know I’d feel awful. Sleep deprivation is no joke. I wondered if He would prefer to keep me in bed with him when he sleeps. I very much hope so.

Sarah interrupted my reverie by emerging from the bathroom. Apparently I had spent long enough lost in thought that she had had enough time to almost completely dry her hair, as her shoulder length, chestnut-coloured hair was quite dry. She was also fully naked. Sadly, her body couldn’t match the form she had in Master’s fantasy, though that was to be expected. Her tits weren’t as big as they had been in the vision, and their shape was less firm. She also hadn’t had pubic hair of any kind. No matter. By the time I was finished with her, she would be perfect.

As she padded over to her dresser, I pecked loudly on the glass. Hearing this, she turned and saw me at the window. I pecked the glass again. She came up to the window and scowled at me. I cocked my head, thoroughly enjoying her irritation. She made ineffectual shoo-ing gestures at me. I tapped the glass once more.

By now, I was becoming a serious nuisance to her. Fed up, she unlatched the window and began to open it. As the window came fully open, I let loose my charm. Her scowling features relaxed too a much more pleasant blank expression, and her eyes glazed over.

“Muh? Wha…?”

“You were letting the bird in.” My voice was soft, but clear, though my beak hadn’t opened.

“The...bird?”

“Yes, the bird. You opened the window so the bird could come in.”

“Oh… Yeah… Window…”

Fuck’s sake, this girl is stupid.

“Now step back and invite the bird in.” Basailu need an invitation to enter a human dwelling. I wish I hadn’t had to screw around with getting an invitation, but this would be easier if I could do it in her room.

“Oh-kay… Come in bird…”

I hopped into the room and flew to the middle. I concentrated on my human form and changed back. More familiar forms were a lot easier to change into.

“Huh? What… The bird?”

The idiot was clearly confused by my appearance. She seemed slightly panicked by the bird’s absence. Understandable, I’d never really used a charm this powerful before. Frankly, it was a miracle she wasn’t drooling.

“What bird, Sarah? It’s just us.”

She visibly relaxed at this.

“Oh? Oh. No bird then… Oh-kay.”

And there’s the drooling.

“Okay, Sarah, I need you to tell me something.”

“Mmmoh-kay?” She pawed at the thin strand of drool hanging from her admittedly very plump lower lip.

Something about that action provoked something in me. I felt a slight warmth in my pussy, and I was unsure if I was genuinely turned on by Sarah’s body, or if I was just responding to what I was about to do to her. I discarded the thought. The compulsion I had placed on her was powerful, but would only hold for about an hour. I would have to investigate my newfound impulses later.

“Sarah, what do you want more than anything else in your life?”

A contract needed to have some kind of mutual obligation, or else it wouldn’t be able to hold for long. I needed her to ask for something, even if I intended to use it to control her.

“Want? I want… Money! Money, and uh… A man! A big strong man, to protect me, and get me things, and fuck me!”

I spent a couple seconds trying not to laugh, before failing miserably. Absolutely giddy, I moved to sit on the bed. The stupid whore couldn’t have given me more to work with if she’d tried! Still, she knew what she wanted, and it explained her earlier interest in Master. His father had left the family a substantial amount of money, to be paid as an annuity, and as a result, He was one of the richer guys in town.

“Okay, Sarah, If you want, I can give you those things.”

“Really? Yay! I want it! Give it!” she put her hands out, as if expecting me to pull it all out of nowhere. She’d started drooling again, but a small amount of light had returned to her eyes at the prospect of getting what she wanted.

I would definitely try to find another means of rendering people pliable. This charm was basically a magical lobotomy. On the other hand, though, she was a lot more pleasant like this than she usually would be. I might try to convince Master to keep her like this.

“Not so fast, dear. If you want it, you have to write it down.”

“Write it?”

“Yes, like a contract. That way, I have to give it to you.”

“Oh-kay! I can write like that! Like in my restraining orders!”

She took to the suggestion with surprisingly little prodding. She walked over to the little-used desk in the corner of the room, found some paper and a pen and began scratching away. She didn’t spend long thinking about it. When she was finished she presented her work to me.

“Give!”

“Not just yet, Sarah. We should go over it first, make sure it’s all what you really want.”

“Fine…” She huffed. She’d adapted a bit to the charm. Hopefully it would not wear off.

I read through the “contract” Sarah had made. It was simple, but astonishingly well put together, especially given that she hadn’t spoken a complete sentence since I’d charmed her. I began to walk her through some corrections.

“See, Sarah, right here it says that ‘The provided man shall have sex with the contractor whenever she wants.’, but I think it would be better if it read ‘The contractor shall have sex with the provided man whenever he wants.’”

“Why?”

“Well, what if you want sex and he isn’t hard? You can’t have sex if he doesn’t want to, right? So you should just do it when he wants to.”

“Oh, Oh-kay! Good idea!”

“And here, it says ‘The provided man shall keep the contractor safe and shall satisfy all her material wants.’ but wouldn’t it be easier to say, ‘The provided man shall assume ownership of the contractor, and shall possess her as chattel.’? After all, if he owns you, then he’ll have to keep you safe, right? And he’ll have to keep you happy too, that way, because no one wants a cranky slave.”

“Didn’t think of that… Oh-kay, I’ll change it”

“And here, Sarah, the bit about money? I think, ‘The contractor should be provided as much money as she wants.’ is too open ended. If you ever wanted no money at all, you wouldn’t get any! Try, ‘The cont shall be given the means to make money, by and at the discretion of the undersigned.’”

“Oh! That’s so smart!”

“Now, I need to say what you need to give me.”

“Anything! Just give it! Please?”

“Okay then, I just need you to add this bit; ‘In exchange for the previously listed services, the contractor surrenders total authority over, and ownership of, her body, mind, and soul to the undersigned, in perpetuity.’”

“Ummm…” She seemed to hesitate at this. “Why?”

My hour was nearly up. I needed to hurry this along.

“It’s just some stuff to make sure you’re happy with the contract.”

Technically true, just like every other flimsy justification I’d thrown her way so far. I really hoped the charm was still holding. I had about ten minutes left on it.

“Oh-kay, if you say so…” She added the clause, then signed as the contractor.

I quickly grabbed the contract and signed it. Usually, a contract like this would be signed in blood, but it wasn’t strictly necessary, and was mostly a measure popularised by the paranoid. A blood contract would kill it’s signatories if broken, and I had no intention of risking killing my Master’s new toy. No fanfare accompanied the signing, but I felt the motion of power as every facet of her being became vulnerable to me. I owned her now, which made her fundamentally different from an ordinary human.

In the old days, she would have been called a changeling. Changelings, contrary to human belief, were not fae themselves, but rather a living thing that a basailu had used their powers to warp physically or mentally. This was easiest to do with people, as wheedling consent out of most other animals was a bit of a pain, but it could be anything. A changeling’s owner owned everything about them, from the bottom up. A lot of basailu would do it to children they were promised in contracts, indulging in a sort of sadistic delayed gratification. Some humans learned how to create changelings as well, but only half-breeds could actually do it successfully, and they could fetch a fair price among those in the know way back when.

They made great sex slaves.

Moving quickly I willed her to accompany me to my car. Still charmed, and still nude, my Master’s belated birthday gift followed me across the backyard and got into the car. After she secured her seatbelt, I willed her to fall unconscious. My excitement building again, I began planning the more nuanced tweaks I would make to her once I brought her to my dwelling.

A Changeling Perfected

As I neared the estate on which my residence was situated, I took a moment to evaluate it. The property spanned about fifteen acres overall, the lot being mostly forest, with the house itself inside a clearing and surrounded by a three metre masonry wall, with wrought iron wall-top railing. The building was built in the Victorian style, with roofed balconies and tall but narrow windows, and was more a small mansion than a typical house.

The house had six bedrooms and four baths, with five bedrooms and two baths on the top floor. My study was also situated on the top floor, with the kitchen and dining rooms on the main floor, along with the largest bathroom. The basement held a rec room,which I didn’t use, the fourth bathroom, and a wine cellar, as well as a small bedroom.

I’d acquired the property after charming a major real estate developer into drawing up and signing a contract, where he agreed to give me the house, as well as a generous monthly stipend. In exchange, I agreed to “curate” the property, which I actually hired out to a maid service. It had been built in the 1970s for an automotive mogul from Detroit, but the man had died only a day after it was completed. Various other owners had attempted to hold onto the estate, but it seemed to always be followed by misfortune.

Frankly, most who got their hands on the place were soon glad to be rid of it. In spite of its reputation, the property definitely wasn’t cursed, though there were some small traces of magic on the grounds. Given that I had learned of the place from His father, by way of a short note he’d written, I imagined that he may have removed a curse from the property sometime before Master had been born.

In the note, he suggested that the house was a good place to reside while I awaited the full activation of the contract, an assessment I agreed with. It would also make an appealing birthday present for my Master. The house, and everything in it. As I pulled into the attached garage, the prospect of surrender to Him threatened to overwhelm me. I idly stroked my tits through the dark T-shirt I’d worn to grab the whore.

Having parked, I shut off the engine and stepped out of the car. I moved around to the backseat, and unbuckled the still sleeping Sarah. By now, the charm had worn off, and I had no desire to cast another, nor did I want to bother with willing her to walk to the basement room I would be keeping her in, at least until she was finished. It was easier to simply carry the girl, especially given that she was about 5′ 5″ and maybe 115 lbs at most.

As I brought her down the stairs, I reviewed my plan of action. I’d tune up her body first, as that could be painful when bone needed to be moved, and I had no desire to have to go over her mind twice. After that, I would have to get her comfortable, submissive, and highly enthusiastic, not to mention prime her to whore herself out on Master’s request. It wouldn’t take long, but I wanted to be sure I did the job right. I entered the room and dropped the unconscious cunt on the seldom-used bed.

“Wake up, slut.”

Sarah’s body flinched at that, coming awake with a start. She made some small confused sounds and started to sit up.

“Where am…”

I willed her to lay back and hold her head still.

“What the fuck?” She wriggled slightly, trying to reclaim control of her body.

She never would. I owned her now and, through me, she would belong to my Master.

“Don’t worry about it, Sarah. You can’t do anything I don’t want you to now.”

“Who’s there? What did you do to me! Tell me where I am, tell me now!” she demanded, “Why the fuck can’t I move? Why am I naked?”

She was clearly more pissed off than terrified.

“I’d say I was hurt you didn’t remember me, but I hadn’t given you a thought in three years when I heard Master had asked you out,” I continued, “We were in the same second year chemistry class. As I remember, you failed that course, and rather conspicuously as well.”

I walked from the foot of the bed to lean over Sarah.

“Mara? Mara Byrne? Does that jog your memory?”

I could see a glint of recognition in her eyes at that. She was less confident now.

“Look, Mara, if this is about the cheating thing, I learned my lesson, okay? So just let me up now and I won’t call the cops.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” I said, as I placed my hand on her smooth stomach. It was the truth. I hadn’t thought about her ill-fated attempt to cheat off my exam since the course ended. “I’d forgotten, honestly. This is for Master, though I do confess that I will enjoy fixing you.” At that, I focused on my form, revealing my short horns and inhuman eyes.

She whimpered and closed her eyes.

“Please, Mara, stop! I don’t understand!” she pleaded, terrified.

I was definitely going to enjoy this.

“Now, let’s start down here.”

I brought my hand down to her cunt, and I ran my middle finger through between her labia. I could hear her continuing to beg quietly, her earlier confidence wholly evaporated.

“Dry. That won’t do, will it? My Master won’t have any use for a whore that can’t get wet.”

I concentrated on how I wanted her body to change, and felt a faint resistance give way. As I continued to stroke her cunt lips, I felt her grow wet, very wet. With the changes I had made, the whore would always be ready, at least physically. From now until the day she died, the bitch would always be dripping wet. I’d made other, subtler changes as well, strengthening her pelvic floor muscles and generally making her cunt more durable. Didn’t want the bitch to get blood on Master’s cock. I removed my fingers from her improved pussy.

“Now, this hair. Master will want his whore to keep her cunt nice and neat, but why make you shave when I can just remove your little bush altogether? While I’m at it, I’m sure there are plenty of other places you have hair you don’t need.”

I concentrated again, and, with my dry hand, brushed away the small amount of now loose hair that sat above her glistening slit. In truth, her pussy hadn’t had all that much hair to begin with, but it wasn’t my choice. Master wanted her bare, and so she would be bare. I felt a mild sense of approval from my link, resonating with the warmth in my cunt. I’d kept myself bare for years, and I wondered briefly if Master’s preferences had affected me, even before my recent awakening.

“What are you doing? Mara? What are you doing to me?”

I rolled my eyes, and brought my hand, the one still wet with her juices, up to her face.

“Open,” I commanded.

She obeyed, eyes widening as her fear grew. I placed my moist digits in her mouth.

“Suck and lick, but don’t bite.”

As Sarah acquainted herself with her own taste, I turned my attention to her tits. She was in good shape, and most women would consider themselves lucky to have tits like hers. Still, “good” would never do where my Master was concerned. As I groped and fondled her, her bust expanded, filling out to firm and proud DD boobs. Much better.

With the broadest strokes dealt with, I now saw to the finer details; fuller lips, clearer skin, and some minor improvements to her muscle tone. In particular, she had some tan lines I evened up, and I tweaked her height a bit. As she was, she was about 8 inches shorter than Master. I dropped her a couple more inches. Now she could wear heels like a good little whore, and still have to look up at Him, like a travel size slut. When I was finished, she was still recognisably Sarah Pierson, but like an idealised sex-doll patterned after her. An especially apt comparison in her case, as she would remain like this, unaging, until I chose otherwise.

As I finished her physical changes, I withdrew my spittle coated fingers from her mouth.

“Please,” she whispered, “No more… I’ll do whatever you want, just no more of that...” She sniffed as tears ran down her face.

The spoilt bitch had probably never experienced real pain before, and I happened to know that shifting bones was utterly excruciating. Served her right. Still, I needed to finish my work here, I did need sleep, after all. The next changes would be mental, and I would particularly need to reshape her sense of reality, maybe even some memories.

I flashed the whimpering slut a predatory smile, likely made more unnerving by the red-on-black eyes and exaggerated canines of my half-form. She closed her eyes and whimpered pathetically. I dropped my wet hand down to my sweet slit, and began to rub myself gently. My chest heaved as I took heavy breaths- This was fun! Maybe I’d draw this out a bit more.

“Now, slut, it has come to my attention that there are some rather important things that you have managed to forget, as well as some rather bizarre delusions you seem to believe. So, what you are going to do for me is keep your pretty little eyes closed and your mushy little brain open, while I go over some of what you’ve forgotten, okay?”

“Please, whatever you are, just let me go…”

“So, the first thing is, you seem to have forgotten your name. Can you tell me what your real name is?”

“Sarah Elizabeth Pierson, please, please stop this…”

“Now, you see, that’s exactly what I was talking about! That’s not your real name. That’s just what people call you.”

“Not…” She frowned, clearly confused, “Not my… Name? What…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You should know that your real name is Sassy.”

“S-sassy? Yeah… Yeah, I knew that! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t quite believe you. After all, Sassy can only speak in third person.”

“Please! Believe Sassy! Sassy is scared, let Sassy go!”

I giggled at Sassy’s attempts to convince me, and clenched my thighs around my busy hand, moving to tease my nipples with the other.

“That’s more like it, Sassy-slut! Don’t you feel better?”

Sassy’s sobbing shortly began to subside. Frankly, I was getting a bit tired of the constant whining.

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “Sassy feels a bit better. She just doesn’t understand what this is…”

“Oh, that’s easy! This is training! You came to me for training.”

“Training? Training for what?”

“Whore training, obviously.”

“What? Bullshit! Why would Sassy want—”

“Well, you see, after Alec dumped you, you got real broken up over it.”

“Yeah… Yeah, Sassy guesses she did take it pretty bad. But the fuck do you mean whore training? That makes no fucking sense!”

“Well, Sassy, you came to me for whore training so you could be Alec’s whore.”

“Sassy meant, uh, Sassy means, besides that!” She blushed furiously.

“And, you told me, you felt so bad for leading him on that you wanted to be his personal whore. You always wanted to be somebody’s devoted little cum-bucket, that’s why you wanted to go out with Alec in the first place.” She began to wriggle now, not trying to escape, but now trying to somehow relieve the sexual need her new worldview entailed.

“Sassy is gonna be such a good cum-bucket for her man!”

“You know, Sassy, If you feel like you need to, you can finger yourself.” At this, the brat began to frig herself furiously. “But about what you said, about him being your man? Well, he’s not. You belong to him, but you have no claim on him. A real girl can have a man, but you aren’t a real girl, are you?”

“Muh? Sassy’s not a… real girl?” She panted, confused, but no less enthusiastic.

“No, not a real girl at all. Sassy is just a walking, talking, dripping set of holes. A bunch of holes can’t have a man. But Sassy has an owner.”

“Yesss… Holes… Just holes.” She was barely cognizant by this point. She wouldn’t really notice what I said from here on, but I knew that the contract would make sure my changes stuck.

“Sassy belongs to Alexander Maintelan. Sassy’s holes belong to her owner. Sassy’s life belongs to her owner. Sassy can’t even think of disobeying her owner. Sassy will be her owner’s drippy little cum-slut whenever he wants.” She moaned at this, and twitched briefly- she had cum from that last command. “Now, in a moment, you are going to fall asleep. When you wake up, you will not find it strange that you are in my home. You will find me as soon as you do, and you will believe that I have finished giving you your whore training. You will ask me to bring you to Alec so that you can be his loyal little nympho whore. Forever.”

Of Loss and Love

As Alec pulled into the parking lot of the law firm, he was nervous. There were a few reasons for this, but it was primarily two factors- his late father, Arthur, and his best friend. He put the car into park and sighed pensively.

His father had died on the exact day Alec had been born, and he knew very little about the man. He’d heard plenty, of course, his mother describing him as a quiet, thoughtful, and objective man, but very little seemed concrete. Some people who had known him claimed Arthur was a veteran, though none could agree what war he might have fought in. Some insisted he was a venture capitalist, while others were certain he was a pawnshop owner who’d inherited a fair sum of cash. It was a little unsettling to hear that such an enigmatic presence in his life had something left to tell him.

The pawnshop thing was true, at least, even if it wasn’t the ‘truth’. His mother had taken over the business after her husband passed, but it was never as profitable in her hands as it had been in Arthur’s. Alec still worked there on weekends sometimes, but he’d started looking for other employment. That was a part of the problem with Mara, actually. Over the past couple months, she’d taken to finding him while he was at work and trying to hang out in the shop. It was flattering, and if it had been anyone else, Alec would be sure they were hitting on him.

With Mara, though, she might just be bored. Alec knew his friend well enough to tell she’d been getting antsy lately. She was losing focus during conversations, staring off into space with a blank expression, fussing with the hems of her shirts and skirts- something was on her mind. Maybe things at home weren’t going well? It briefly occurred to Alec that he might be the source of her distracted behaviour, but he dismissed it out of hand. If she had a thing for him, she would just say something. Her blunt honesty was honestly kind of endearing.

Also endearing were her proud, firm breasts, tight waist, and elegant features. She had a gorgeous smile, too, though she almost never let it show. It had been a struggle to get through puberty when his best friend was an absolute babe from fourteen on, but he’d managed to resist asking her out. She had been with him longer than anyone but his mother, and they could always just talk. That kind of comfortable familiarity was kind of nuts.

Honestly, Alec had a pretty big crush on Mara, but he didn’t want to upset their dynamic by asking her out. She had never dated all through high school, as far as he knew, and had never shown any interest in, well, anyone. Alec suspected she might actually be ace, but didn’t want to bring it up. Sometimes he felt like he wanted to be around her for the rest of his life, and was terrified of scaring her off, so he said nothing, didn’t even allow himself to consider it, for fear of saying the wrong thing.

Entering the building, Alec hoped at least one of his problems might be done with by the time the day was over.

In Which we Load Chekhov’s gun

The offices of Hulbert & Hulbert were pretty old school, as in Victorian-era old school- dark green wallpaper adorned with fleur-de-lis patterns, rich, somber hardwoods, and ornate hardwood trim along the walls and doorways. The place oozed with the aura of a bygone age- a presence quite at odds with the appearance of one of it’s partners, Martin Hulbert. The man was distinctly modern, with his long blonde hair drawn back into a neat ponytail, save for a few loose strands that draped forward over his temples. He wore square-framed glasses, and had a neatly trimmed soul patch. His black dress-shirt was rolled up past the elbows, revealing various tattoos, all abstract designs done in elegant black ink. He was a well-muscled and broad shouldered man, maybe in his mid-thirties, and spoke in a precise, if sibilant, manner, emphasising his authoritative baritone voice.

“So, Mister Maintelan, as I have been assigned to manage your case by my late predecessor, I will be handling the… let us say, delayed, elements of your late father’s will.”

Alec shifted uncomfortably in the oversized black leather armchair. “I understand there were some extra things to do with me being eighteen?” The office was objectively rather spacious, but Mr. Hulbert was a rather imposing presence- Alec wanted this over fast.

“Yes, the first,” he produced a small steel lockbox, “Is this. The will did not inform us of the contents, only that this,” he produced a plain brass skeleton key, laying it atop the lockbox, “is the key to it’s padlock. The second, I’m afraid, is considerably less concrete. It is a message, one to be delivered verbally after you’ve come of age.” Reaching out, Alec picked up the lockbox and pocketed the key.

“What, uh, what’s the…” Alec looked questioningly at the lawyer. “What’s the, you know, message?”

“I warn you, Mr. Maintelan, when I say that it is ‘less concrete’, I mean that. It is terrifically unhelpful, or at least seems so to my eyes.” He produced a small piece of thick paper- it looked like a bit of card stock that had been torn from a larger sheet. “The message reads; ‘My son, it is right that the demon shall serve you.’” He gave a sympathetic grimace. “I was hoping that you could make more sense of that than I could.”

“Well, I was hoping so too.” Alec released his nervous breath, now more confused than anything. “Maybe it was supposed to tie into some sort of grand life advice he was gonna give me growing up, but… you know.”

“Well, I was thinking about that, and I went to look at some of the earlier iterations of his will, except there weren’t any. This,” he proffered a large sheaf of papers, “Is the only will he made. Ever, as far as I’ve been able to tell.” He dropped the will back onto the desk. “And he only had it notarised the day before he died. Twenty-four hours, to the minute. It is without a doubt the strangest thing I have ever heard of, even stranger than that Bocce ball lawsuit, which I am not going to go into right now.”

“Okay then. Cool. Is there, uh, there anything else I should know?” Alec asked, clearly wanting to leave before he opened the lockbox.

“Yes, actually. Your father left a sizable fund in your name, to be used to engage our legal services. The exact amount I am not personally at liberty to disclose, but if you contact our financial department they should be able to sort that out. Anytime you need legal advice or representation, please don’t hesitate to come to us.”

The Law-men

Standing by the large bay window of his office, Martin Hulbert watched Mr. Maintelan pull out of the lot. As he did, he pulled up a number in his contacts, and called it.

“Hello brother! It’s Martin. Yes. Just finished with the Maintelan case.”

“...”

“No, he has no idea.”

“...”

“Not our place, Marvin. The crow will have to deal with it.”

“...”

“We can’t. We knew when we took the case it would be hands-off work.” Hulbert closed the blinds around the window, and walked over to sit at his desk.

“...”

“I know, but until he needs a lawyer, our policy is quite clear.” Martin placed the phone on the desk and switched it to speaker phone. “This is my case, and I will be keeping my distance. I suggest you do the same. We don’t want the authorities breathing down our necks here, our clients come to us for our discretion.”

“The kid’s in way over his fuckin’ head Marty.” The voice on the other end was rougher, with a more pronounced accent and with less formal speech. “Art was our friend, he helped us build this practice, and he saved our asses more than a few times each. You think some fuckin’ crow is gonna be able to do this job? Last time one of those things did anything to that family, she killed Art! Come on, Marty, we owe him this.” His accent made the name sound more like Mawdy thaen Marty.

“We owe him our trust, and he entrusted this to the crow. I know losing Arthur hit you pretty hard, but we have to respect his wishes. You don’t go near Mr. Maintelan, understand?”

“Hmph!” grumbled Marvin. “Fine. You win, Marty- for now.”

“Glad we have that settled then. Now, I need you to hit up a warehouse outside of town. The Lewises’ think Nguyen has been grabbing their goods. If she is, we need to know.”

“This gonna see court Marty?”

“Not a state court, no. This is a Society affair.”

“Shit. What do I gotta look for? This Nguyen lady got security?”

“You’ll be looking for a helm. Red steel, gaelic markings. Sallet pattern, but with a full faceguard. And it’s not Nguyen’s warehouse. It’s the Lewises’.”

“We spy on our own clients now, Marty?”

“We do if I think they are lying to us, Marvin. Nguyen’s a big fish in the business, and she moves better product than anyone on the market. She’s got no reason to steal some nobody’s goods. I think the Lewises’ are trying to play us.”

“I’ll get on it. Lewises’ still got the rats?”

“Most likely.”

“Alright. Say this ain’t gonna end up like another one of those Bocce ball things, is it?”

“Goodbye, Marvin.”

“Hah! I’ll call that a solid maybe. Love ya, brother.”

In Which Chekhov’s gun is Left in the Backseat

Alec was honestly pretty pissed at his father right now. He’d had eighteen years of waiting, with not even a hint of a message from his dad, and now he finally gets something, but it’s fucking nothing! Furious, Alec threw the lockbox into the backseat. Fuck his father, where did he get off, leaving them like he did? He must have known he was gonna die!

He had to have known. He’d updated his will for the first and only time the day before- that couldn’t be a coincidence. What had happened?

Growling in frustration, Alec resolved to put it out of mind for now. He had enough on his plate as it was. He tried to focus on tomorrow, on what he’d do while at Mara’s place for the weekend. Maybe he’d be able to make it through the entire time without fucking things up with his super-babe best friend without destroying their friendship.

Yeah. Right.

Fate is a Hopeless Romantic

I had endured most of Saturday by busying myself around the manor, and by fine-tuning Sassy’s training. The place was pristine by four pm, in spite of an unforeseen side effect of Sassy’s perpetual lubrication. She’d dripped all over the floor before I ran out and got her some menstrual pads to soak up the surplus of girl-cum. I considered reverting the change, but honestly? It was kind of hot. Now she was wearing high heels, a lacy pair of panties, the pad, and nothing else. She would still soak through the pad eventually, but this was much more manageable.

“Sassy is finished with the bathrooms!” shouted a chipper voice from across the foyer. Having the clarity of purpose I’d given her had left the girl with a genuine emotional high, one that would not end until I chose to end it. Serving truly made her happy now, a trait I couldn’t help but empathise with.

Smiling absentmindedly, my cheeks flushed as I recalled the moment I had come to that revelation the night before. I could certainly understand such a drastic change in attitude. Purpose of that level, of that purity, was absolutely intoxicating. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to bring just a bit of relief to my wanton pussy- but not too much. After climaxing in sympathetic ecstasy to my Master the thought of anything else seemed a bit… Empty.

“Very good, Sassy-slut. That should be the last of the housework for the time being. Now, while Alec is here, you aren’t to leave your training room, understand?” I’d designated the downstairs bedroom as Sassy’s training room for the moment. Fuck knows I wasn’t going to be able to get the scent of her juices out of the carpet without a steam cleaner, so I’d decided to just roll with it for now.

“But Sassy needs to give Sir her holes! Remember? ‘Mister Alexander owns Sassy’s drippy little holes’, right?” She pouted and fondled her crotch for emphasis.

“Yes, yes, that’s very good, Sassy, but I need to prepare Alec for some personal stuff first. Besides, until I give you to Him, I own those holes. You don’t get to decide what I do with them.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sassy grumbled.

The next few hours seemed to grow to be agonisingly long. Mostly, I sat in the lounge at the front of the manor and fiddled with my appearance; my hair, my clothes, my shape. I settled on having my hair a bit wavy, allowing it to partially hang (I hoped alluringly) over the right side of my face. A nice dark lipstick to accentuate my skin tone, a bit of light, smoky, eye shadow and some tasteful eyeliner. I skipped the blush, with my dark complexion it might conceal the actual blushing I would be doing. I settled on some tight denim capris, navy blue, and a dark grey tank-top that left much of my midriff exposed. I hoped it would straddle the line of sensual and casual I was aiming for. I may have also… emphasised, let’s say, my boobs and my butt. I felt a little like it was cheating, since my human shape was usually a bit less voluptuous, but, well… I mean, I don’t use it very often, but my true shape is grotesquely well endowed, in spite of its more unsettling traits.

So it’s not really cheating, right? Right.

By the time He arrived I was truly hot and bothered. He texted me when He found the laneway onto the estate, unsure if He had the address right. I assured Him He did, and told Him to hurry His ass up. Just because He was my reason for being didn’t mean I was any more patient than normal.

I reviewed my plan in my mind. I’d start a movie, then order a pizza. We would eat and talk while we watched, and after it ended, I’d put on another movie, a cheesy horror-comedy from the eighties called “The Stuff”. The pizza and the late hour would leave him drowsy, and the movie would give me an excuse to cuddle up with him. From there, I could probably transition pretty easy into some heavy petting, and then I could probably take things wherever I wanted.

When I opened the door to let Him in, I was floored for a moment. His tousled wavy hair, dark brown, but with hints of a deep red in the fading sunlight, was appealingly unruly. His face was narrow, but with a strong chin and handsome, if delicate, features. His shoulders, broad but lean, seemed to carry some hidden weight. His six foot height seemed to tower over me, though He was objectively only about four inches taller than I was. He had never seemed so sexy before- and I had never been so aroused.

His expression faltered when he saw me, and in that moment, I could feel it across our link; what he desired right now, more than anything, was me.

Oh, fuck the plan.

Oh, fuck me!

I grabbed him by his plain white tee-shirt and pulled him into what had to be the most searing hot liplock in the history of the earth. He hesitated at first, clearly surprised, but soon began to reciprocate. I could taste Him, strange as it sounds. He tasted like almost nothing at all, but still somehow amazing, all skin and salt and… mint, maybe? But when He relaxed, and we began to explore each other’s mouths, I closed my eyes and let out a moan that carried the relief of eighteen years of waiting.

After what could have been hours or minutes of kissing each other, I didn’t care which, we finally released each other’s mouths. Panting heavily, I was still clinging to Him, holding bunched up handfuls of His shirt. I could feel His hands resting on the small of my back, holding me, possessing me.

Oh, fuck yes!

I leaned into Him, resting my head on His chest.

“Hey, Alec?” I asked.

“Uh, y-yeah, Mara?” I could feel His chest rise and fall as we stood in the doorway.

“You still looking for a girlfriend?”

“Honestly, Mara? I don’t know why I ever looked anywhere else.” I broke into a fit of elated giggles, and pressed myself up against Him while He chuckled softly. He shifted his hands up to hold me by my shoulders, and we both leaned in for another, less intense, kiss.

I don’t know if I have a soul, but if it wasn’t His before, it is now.

“Do you want to, you know, take this a little further?” I asked when we separated again.

“About how much further?” He returned.

I got up on tiptoe and whispered into His ear, “I remember you being particularly eager to lose your cherry this summer,” I guided His hands back down below my waist, lower this time, down to my ass, and stroked the length of His rigid cock through His jeans. “And I was hoping to maybe do the same.” He swallowed.

“You’re sure your folks won’t be back tonight?” Oh, Alec, if only You knew.

“Yep.”

“Bedroom, then?”

“Yep.” I smiled.

Perhaps it wasn’t the most elegant way to lose one’s virginity, but fuck if I was going to complain. We rushed up to my bedroom as fast as Alec could run. It was all I could do not to simply pick Him up and jump clear to the second floor. Still, somehow I managed to maintain my composure, even if by composure I mean ‘clinging half-mad to my wonderful, glorious, handsome, Master-boyfriend while trying to get His pants off’.

Hey, I’m new to this. But then so is He, and by the time we were in the bedroom He’d pulled my lips to His twice more. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of my mouth. Not that I was gonna stop Him. I’d already started to plan out how I was going to keep His tongue in my mouth while we fucked. I would have to be on top, I needed to control the pace so He didn’t blow too soon and get embarrassed. I would just about curl up and die if I ever hurt Him like that.

As we undressed each other we continued to grope and kiss, with Him being particularly fond of my tits. If He liked them so much, I would have to keep them this size. I could feel His satisfaction through my link with His subconscious, He wanted more, and there was nothing I wanted more than giving that to Him. I stroked His member as I breathily managed to get out;

“The bed, Alec, on your back.”

My Master complied, laying on the bed with His head raised slightly by the pillows. I straddled His midsection, my wet cunt smearing Him with my fluids, signifying my devotion to this perfect creature, this wonderful man that I had been so lucky to be born to serve, and we locked lips once more. It was so perfect to feel Him beneath me, warm and safe and happy. Fuck the contract, this was what I lived for. I reached back to grasp His stiff cock, and maneuvered myself to line up with it.

“Just hold on, let me set the pace, okay?” I broke our kiss to tell Him.

“God I fucking love you…” He whispered hoarsely, looking straight into my eyes, barely aware that He had said it, not thought it.

At Him saying that, I felt a strange pressure in my chest, not unlike a heavy weight had been dropped on top of me. He meant it. He loved me.

Did I love him? Could I?

But I couldn’t focus on myself right now, not when he needed me so badly. Unsure of what else I could do, I lowered my dripping quim onto his dick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuh-huck!” I gasped, overwhelmed by the experience. Sinking lower, I soon had his entire length within me. I was just so gloriously full!

“Y-you okay there?”

“Yeah, it’s just.. A lot.” I giggled, perhaps delirious from the heady sensations. “You’ve got,” I panted, “A lot of cock stuffed up my itty bitty pussy.” I giggled again. I’d never felt so happy before. Yeah, I was probably pretty out of it.

I could feel His want blooming within my mind, as I began to raise and lower myself on His manhood. The fucking itself only seemed to intensify His desires, but He maintained His restraint, only ever thrusting to meet my downward strokes. As it grew, I became increasingly unable to tell my own wants from His. I kissed Him again, moving more rapidly on his cock. One of us wanted it, and I didn’t particularly care which.

I felt my climax building now, rapidly, and as it came to a head I felt my cunt spasm around him, and I let out a strangled, keening sound into His mouth, my whole body shaking as I did. He liked it, I knew it almost instinctively, he wanted my treacherous little twat to squeeze and stroke while I convulsed in pleasure, and so, I did. My orgasm was sustained for nearly five minutes, unnaturally elongated without my choice by my own supernatural powers, just as I was sure His endurance was assisted by the same means. He wanted to please me, like no other man could, before He came.

And cum He did, after another half-hour of literally magical sex. He had brought me to four deeply satisfying and wholly unnatural climaxes by that point. By that point we had changed positions twice, from me-on-top, to straight missionary, and now we were pressed flat together, him above me. He had His hands tangled up in my hair, bending His head down to kiss and nibble at the hollow of my throat. I couldn’t do much more by that point than squirm and mewl for Him. I think I knew He was going to cum well before He did, but when it was clear to Him as well, I egged Him on.

“Do it! Fucking do it, Alec! Please! Fucking cum! In! Me!” I shouted in time with our thrusting.

He came with a bestial roar, surprisingly animal for Him, who always seemed so careful of His behavior. His seed felt searing hot within my needy cunt, and the volume was as superlative as every other element of our coupling, seeming to overflow and spill onto the sheets. I could barely cope with the strange and novel emotions running through me. I was exultant, I was manic, I was utterly terrified, I didn’t know what I was doing or what I should be doing. I was lost, but at the same time I was sure, more sure than I’d ever been, that I was exactly where I belonged.

It was, to be blunt, a real fuckin’ trip, pun not intended.

Alec was tired, though, as my power had merely extended his endurance, not given him limitless stamina. He collapsed to my side, barely holding onto consciousness, gasping hoarsely from the effort of the act.

“Hey,” He paused before panting out, “Yeah, uh, Mara, we gotta, um…” He swallowed and abandoned His attempt at conversation to resume panting. I didn’t need our link to know that, while He wanted to talk, He needed sleep.

“It’s okay, Al. We can talk when you wake up.” I kissed His forehead, still covered in a wet sheen of perspiration, before reaching over to the lamp on the bedside table, the only light on in the room. I turned it out, and brought my attention back to His form, the panting now subsiding to deep, slow breaths as He had already fallen asleep. As I did, I could feel through the link that He was a little bit cold, and it was uncomfortable enough to interrupt His sleep pretty soon.

Since we were laying on top of the sheets, I could think of only one immediately available way to warm Him up. Making an excited, albeit tired, smile to myself, I slid up next to Him, burrowing into His arms, and tried to get as much of my skin in contact with His as I could. Well-fucked, joyous beyond all reason, and completely relaxed for the first time in my life, I fell asleep.

I would regret that decision when I woke up.

Y’all Ready for a Dream Sequence?

I’d had the dream before, but that never made it any more pleasant. It was a simple enough setting, a clearing, surrounded by a forest, and all of it shrouded by thick fog. I would always start in the middle of the clearing, half on my knees, as if I were picking myself up after a fall. I would be naked, and in my half-form. My half-form, when I actively chose to use it, had a full size set of antlers, but they were more rounded, with long flat scoop-like formations, more like a caribou’s antlers than a deer’s. My hands were an odd melange of functional human hand, and massive wings branching off my pinky fingers. My skin was darker, almost a dark grey colour, and my boobs and butt were fuller, larger, more rounded. My hair was longer as well, growing down past my shoulders, turning to a stark white below my chin.

Then she would show up. She looked pretty much like the human shape I’d used for so many years, but her eyes were different, a light brown rather than my own deep burgundy colour. She was who I pretended to be. I hated her.

“You’re lying again, freak.” She sneered, “That’s not your face. Come on, what don’t you stop faking and show me what you really look like, like a good little monster.”

“I-I’m not—” My throat was dry, and I struggled to get the words out. I could never speak properly in the dream.

“Shut up, freak. Nobody wants to hear you talk, freak! Now quit playing pretend!” This was always how it went. I hate this next part.

My flesh seemed to ripple, then burn and tighten. I could see my arms shrivel up, until they were nothing but skin and bone. I knew the same was happening to my legs and ribs, while I could feel my tits, no, breasts, these were breasts because tits pleased my Master, but breasts could be veiny and saggy and bloated like a rotting corpse, and these were like that, and my butt was the same, and the rest of me was bones and scaly horrible skin and patchy mangy fur and I hated it I hated it but I couldn’t escape it because I was weak and horrible and she was beautiful and laughing at me laughing at the suffering laughing at the monster and I hated her and I wanted to be her and it was all of me now dead and ugly and evil and nobody would ever love me they would love her and I wasn’t her I was the monster and I hated it hated hated it-

“God I fuckin’ love you.”

And like that I was in the doorway again, in His arms. I could hear His words, more felt than thought as He’d spoken them. I was still in my true form, but He was still holding me, and I could feel it, I could feel the truth of it and it was warm and safe, and I could feel it envelop me. I was scared, but now I was curious too, this part had never happened before. I could feel the truth, His love, I could feel it sinking into my cold dead ugly horrible evil flesh, and I was changing! I was warm now, warm and alive, and I wasn’t rotten or bloated or horrible, and we were floating, we were floating and I knew I was beautiful, I couldn’t see my face but I knew it anyway He had made me beautiful and the girl and the monster didn’t matter anymore and I would never be ugly again I would only ever be what he wanted and he wanted to love me so I would be worthy of him I knew it I knew I would never be anything but perfect for him and I was so happy and my feathers were bright and pale and beautiful and silky soft and he wanted to get lost in them forever-

And then I woke up.

Well, That Took a Fuckin’ Turn There, eh?

When Alec had seen Mara in the doorway, everything he had ever felt about her but had buried deep in the back of his mind came flooding to the forefront. It must have shown on his face because she just stood there for half a second like a deer in headlights, before she had kissed him and dragged her best friend up to her room to fuck like animals for longer than Alec had honestly thought possible. Alec was, suffice to say, quite pleasantly surprised by his longtime companion’s readiness to give him her virginity in exchange for his own, but that had been the night before.

Now, well rested and thoroughly fucked, Alec assumed he would wake up to a deeply embarrassed Mara and some awkward pillow talk. In a sense, he realised, he was right. The Mara he had gone to sleep beside had possessed black hair, and relatively ordinary human arms, and no antlers.

This Mara had stark white hair, soft and downy white wings at the ends of her arms- with three fingers and a thumb at the wrist joints of each wing- and short sinuously curving golden antlers, a bit like a deer’s. Otherwise she was pretty much unchanged, at least as far as he could see. She was cuddled up to his chest, breathing gently, her mouth slightly open. He could feel her warm breath when she exhaled.

“Uh…”

Alec was pretty far out of his element here. He scooched back a bit on the bed so she wouldn’t jab him with the antlers when she woke up. And wake up she did.

“Muh,” She said tiredly, before yawning.

She had an extra set of canines in her upper jaw.

“Mm, hey Al,” she said as she opened her (now gold-on-black) eyes and smiled at him. Looking up at him through hooded eyes, she began to rub his arm with her hand-wing-thing as she spoke. “Look there’s some stuff I…”

She trailed off as she caught sight of her feathered limb. Looking confused, she brought up her arm to examine it more closely. “What in the… White? How is that…’’ At this she sat up to look at herself in the dresser mirror across from the bed.

She screamed, confused and apparently panicked by her appearance- and justifiably so, from Alec’s perspective. “I-I don’t- my eyes, my wings aren’t—” She lightly touched her antlers, then took another look at her hands. “My fingers, m-my antlers…” Her panic intensified, and he began to breath heavily.

“Hey, look, Mara, over here, look at me, okay?” Alec shuffled towards her on his knees, taking her arm and laying a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Yes,” She whispered something else, her gaze focusing intensely on him. Alec could barely hear her.

“Look, I don’t know what this is, but I need you to calm down, okay? Maybe we can just, I dunno, take a sec, okay?”

“Yes, Master.” She responded, visibly relaxing for a moment before clapping her hand-wings over her mouth and blushing furiously.

“Uh, Master?” Alec asked.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK, I am so sorry, I don’t have to call you that if you don’t like it—”

“Mara, I really need you to stop for a second and try to explain this to me, because I am starting to suspect you know what this is.”

“It’s- Okay, I can sort of explain, but I don’t really know everything okay? I didn’t know that this would happen, and I don’t really know what this is.”

“Just- Start from the beginning, okay Mara?” Alec moved in closer to try to give her a comforting embrace.

“Alright,” She said, curling up to fit more of herself into his arms. “So, to start; I’m not a human.” She looked to him for his reaction.

“Okay. I think I can get that.”

“So the next part, and please don’t freak out at me, I just have to tell you, alright? The next part is; I am yours. I mean, I belong to you, I was born to be your possession, okay?”

“That’s, um… That’s kind of… Kind of a lot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I know it’s not normal, it’s just… Ugh! Why does this have to be so hard?”

“Just,” Alec paused for a moment, trying to keep his cool in this bizarre situation, “Try to keep talking.”

“Okay.” Mara let out a long, heavy, breath. “So, a long time ago, right around the 800’s, some guy in Scotland found an artifact that made him immortal, but only as long as he stayed in Scotland. So, he gets sick of Scotland pretty quick, spends the next thousand years trying to leverage the artifact into something useful. What he eventually settles on is a generational…” Mara looked uneasily at him for a moment, “A generational slave contract. And, I guess that’s where I come in. See, this guy? He was your dad. He made a deal with a sort of demon to have her one of her offspring be enslaved to his male heir. And,” She reached around to embrace him, “And that’s,” She shuddered, whether from dreadful apprehension or joyous anticipation, it wasn’t clear. “That’s me. Before either of us were ever born, my mother sold me to your father to be your slave.”

“So, um, the wings and the horns, and the, eh, eyes and teeth… That’s all because you’re some sort of…” Alec searched for a word, “Spirit?” Mara smiled and laughed briefly at this.

“You don’t have to be so careful with your words. Technically, the name my… let’s call them, ‘people’ use is basailu, but we’ve generally leaned pretty hard into the whole demon thing. If you aren’t comfortable with those, you can use fae, that’s what a bunch of old pagan religions called us.” She eyed her hair for a moment. “The wings and horns aren’t really new, so to speak, it’s just… Well, they’re the wrong colour, for one, my feathers and hair- even my horns- they should all be black. The white and gold? That’s new.” She raised a feathered forearm to stroke her face. “My irises should be red, too.”

“And you were sold into slavery? By your parents? Holy crap, Mara that’s awful!” Mara dropped her hand from her face and buried her nose into his shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“It’s okay. It does have its benefits, after all.” She squeezed him closer to her for a moment, to emphasise her point. “And it’s parent, singular. Just my mother. We’re not really conventional living things, so our families can be a bit janky.”

“So, I mean, my dad was some kind of occult-magic-guy?”

“Yeah, but I don’t really know the details. He left a note for me before he died, said I should check out this house, maybe use it as a base. Only got one look at him before his heart gave out. Turns out aging twelve hundred years in five minutes will kill you in just a few seconds.”

“Fuck’s sake…” Alec tried to take a moment to grapple with all he’d heard. It had to be true, right? It explained a lot, actually. About his father, and the circumstances of his death, and also why Mara had always seemed so aloof around others. And the message, fuck, this was what the message meant! ‘It is right that the demon shall serve’!

Wait.

“Mara… Are we only friends because of this contract thing? Is that why you’ve been spending time with me?” Alec’s expression was a mix of guilt and concern, but Mara’s became suddenly frantic with worry

“No, no, no! Never! Look, the contract only says I had to protect you before you were eighteen. I could have gone our whole lives without speaking a word to you. I chose to spend time with you because you are, and I can say this without reservation, literally my favorite person.” Alec was taken back at the vehemence with which she rejected the idea.

“That is… Honestly, I don’t know what to say to that. Thanks?” Alec still wasn’t sure he believed her, but she certainly seemed to want him to- and as strange as this all was, he couldn’t help but trust her. She might have horns, wings, and world-shattering revelations about both his father and the nature of the universe, but she was still Mara, right?